


Pumice

by SapphoIsBurning



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst and Porn, Bathing/Washing, F/M, Foot Fetish, Foot Massage, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7673260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/pseuds/SapphoIsBurning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Ambrose likes to worship Alexa Bliss's feet.</p><p>It's about more than just feet. But that doesn't mean it's not also about feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pumice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sanidine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanidine/gifts), [APgeeksout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/gifts).



> "This was supposed to be foot fetish porn but it turned into a meditation on anxiety and self-injury that is still also foot fetish porn: an autobiography"  
> -sapphoisburning, July 24, 2016

Dean likes to play with Alexa’s feet.

Dean will literally worship any body part that any of his partners (past or present) gets off on, no matter the partner. He’s most used to worshipping cocks, and bodies in general, and occasionally hair worshipping, but he does really like feet. Women’s feet or men’s feet, he likes ones with a nice shape, clean, well-taken care of, or alternatively, ones he can help take care of. He’s good with a pumice stone and not many men on the roster are. He’s a steady hand with a nail polish brush. But he’d rather just lick you up and down and rub you up and down the arch of your foot and the sole, digging his thumbs into the sensitive areas, and rubbing around the tight edge of the heel that gets sore from the hard impact of all the work they do.

That night, he crouched at the foot of the bed as Alexa lazily extended her right foot toward him, pointing her toe. He felt a thrill go through his body, straight to his cock, seeing her there all spread out, black panties and one of his old merch hoodies because she was cold, her skin soft and gently tan all over, and her feet neat and small and cared for like someone with anxiety sometimes does. There aren’t that many parts of your body you can sand down if you’re mad at yourself, that you can take what is functionally a dremel to, that you can rub a metal file against, that doesn’t end in tears or the hospital. Feet can take a lot of abuse. If you want to tear your skin off, sometimes you can just work on your feet.

Dean knew Alexa’s deal, at this point, practically knew it the first time he saw her. Takes one to know one. Pain isn’t weakness leaving the body, it’s the self leaving the body, trying to get away from yourself to stop the nagging voices telling you to drive into the river or hurt somebody or whatever. Wrestling’s great for that.

He grasped her foot with both hands, running his thumbs up the bottom and then down again, up and down. She moaned. “God, I’m tired,” she said. “This feels so good.”

“When have I ever taken bad care of you?” Dean asked. He tried to be subtle about getting a sniff but it’s hard to smell someone’s feet without being noticed. Alexa just grinned, haughty and mock-entitled (he’d never met a less entitled girl in his life, she never complained about stopping at  7-11, not even once, though she also knew he never watched her eat or asked any questions about food at all). He nuzzled her big toe with his nose and they both laughed.

Dean shook his head to clear the cobwebs creeping in, the way his mind always wanders, and he sucked her big toe into his mouth, suddenly finding focus. It was soft and the toenail was neatly trimmed and it tasted amazing, clean but with that skin salt that never ever goes away from someone’s foot, even if they’ve just taken a damn bath. Now she moaned in earnest. Who could help it when having someone work your feet felt so good. Dean highly recommended it, and not just to people he was actually trying to get into bed. The world would be better if everyone had someone else to worship their feet. Who thinks about them, cares for them, tells them they’re doing a good job? Who loves a foot?

Dean sucked harder and massaged the rest of Alexa’s foot with his hands. She kicked her other foot forward and propped it up on Dean’s chest. Soon he was rubbing each foot with his hands while licking and sucking just the one. He licked every toe, and with a wide, wet tongue he swiped all the way up from heel to tip. He kissed her instep reverently.

He heard the telltale buzz of Alexa firing up her vibrator, which she needed to orgasm, as much as Dean had believed her past lovers had just been underachievers. He could eat her out for an hour but the big finish was just only forthcoming with mechanical stimulation. He tried not to take it too personally.

“Dean,” she moaned, “suck harder.”

Not one to ignore direction from a girl once it’s given, he went back to her toes. He let go of her left foot with his right hand and slipped it inside his boxers. This would probably be over quickly. God, Alexa was beautiful, and a little scary, one of his favorite combinations. She was from Ohio and she wasn’t afraid to bust his balls a little, and she tasted so good everywhere, all over. He inhaled deeply and sucked harder, working every inch of toe he could with his tongue, feeling grounded and grateful.

Alexa wriggled and thrashed while Dean clung on to her. He looked up with supplicant eyes, wide and lovely, and she grinned and suddenly threw her head back, drawing her left foot up to her chest and coming like a lovely terrifying animal who had Dean forever in her clutches.

But Dean didn’t let up on her foot, a string of drool escaping his mouth and slowly pooling at the base of her big toe. She keened, more and more aware of the sensitive skin down there being wetly pleasured by Dean.

He stroked himself harder, hunching his shoulders. His hair fell in his face hiding his eyes from Alexa’s gaze, but every time he stole a glance upward she was there, seeing him and blessing him with her admiration.

He sucked a breath in through his clenched teeth and with a grunt and a moan he was coming too, hard, inside his underwear, soaking it through. He sat back on his heels, pulling away finally from the golden foot, the sole, the gentle curve, the delicate flat parts, the round parts, the clean parts, the dirty parts. Especially the dirty parts.

They’re all dirty parts.

Alexa lay on her side now, her underwear still pushed down her thighs, her face slunk down into the sweatshirt she was borrowing (permanently as far as Dean cared, somebody cute and naked could have the shirt off his back because what’s cuter than someone cute wearing your clothes?). Her hair had come wild and sprung in a few different directions upon the pillow.

Dean wiggled his ass to get his boxers off, wadded them up and wiped down with them again, and tossed them on the floor. He crawled up to lie next to Alexa naked but for a shirt with her name on it too, in red dripping letters.

She made him feel hungry, thirsty, like he was worthy of getting to eat, getting to drink.

“Gonna let me kiss you after that?” he asked, bashfully, making it a joke rather than a real question.

“Of course,” she said, drawing her eyebrows together, “feet aren’t even weird.”

He smiled through the sudden emotional nakedness and leaned in for the kiss, her face meeting his, their lips locking. He tasted her lip balm and she got the salt of her own skin, and he felt her surge against him, hungry for more of it. They kissed hard and lazily. There was tongue.

He wrapped his arms around her over the soft hoodie and pulled them close. She shimmied her underwear all the way off and they lay nestled together, sated.

She rolled so he was spooning her now, and he drew them together, burying his face in her hair.

They woke up early the next morning and showered together, and Alexa stooped to the ground to wash Dean’s feet.

She tsked as she kissed one protectively. “You should let me work on these for you. You of all people.”

“Some things are easier to give than to receive,” he said, trying to hold still while she touched him so tenderly. “Why’d you want to touch my old feet anyway, you don’t have to do that.”

She rolled her eyes so hard he felt a wave of her gaze. “You know why.”

He sighed. There were a lot of reasons why. He reached down to run his fingers through her wet hair, not sure how he felt about her kneeling at his feet.

“Throw in a pedicure?” he asked hopefully.

“You got a deal,” she said, rising.

And if anyone in the locker room noticed his two-tone paint job when they hit the showers after the next show, they didn’t dare mention it. But they might have dared be jealous that Dean had someone to love a part of him that much. Maybe, even, all of him.

**Author's Note:**

> [This totally counts as fanart you guys,](http://bingitoff.tumblr.com/post/148123377137/sapphoisburning-got-to-keep-ur-personal-brand) thanks sanidine!


End file.
